


no reason for suspicion of me

by erintoknow



Series: Aria-Rough Drafts [14]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, F/F, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 05:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: ortega's favor isn't what you expected, you're going to have to think on your feet to get out of this one.





	1. you can only get so dirty

**Author's Note:**

> title and chapter titles taken from the lyrics of [[Long Division by How to Swim]](https://howtoswim.bandcamp.com/track/long-division)

“Have you seen the new building yet? They just finished it, oh, two years ago now? The Marshal program is getting a lot more money these days than it used to. Or–” Ortega laughs, she hasn’t noticed you’ve stopped follow her yet. “–Maybe Steel is just that much better at me than getting funding.”

You were an idiot. Of course this was a trap.

“Ariadne?” Ortega turns back to you as gawp at the building in front of the two of you. The Taxi already gone. You could run but that’ll just make it worse.

“Ortega–” you hiss through your teeth, “you didn’t mention your friend was part of the _Rangers_.”

The brick of a building in front of the two of you is like some modern throwback to brutalist architecture. All reinforced cement with thick mirrored glass windows. Should have known.

She peers at you, the smile on her face drifting away. “I didn’t want to get into detail at a diner, you know? Why, is it a problem?”

You bite your lip and fold your arms. You need to stay in control. Don’t panic. Ortega doesn’t have any reason to suspect anything. Don’t give her one. “I just– I didn’t think to expect it. Did–didn’t I mention being _retired_? Trying to keep a low profile, even?”

“Ari…” There’s a flash of worry on Ortega’s face. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, shit. “It’ll be fine. If anything happens, you can always come to me. I promise you.”

She doesn’t know what she’s saying. What she’s promising.

“Talk is cheap, you know.” You smooth down your sweatshirt, push up your sunglasses.You take a half-step towards Ortega and the building entrance and then waver, hesitating. “I… do I look okay?” It’s a little late to try and dress up, but damn if you’ll walk to your potential execution looking like a hobo.

A smile pulls up on Ortega’s face, “You look like you’re drowning in that sweatshirt of yours. So… just like old times really.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “F-f-fuck you, Ortega.” She’s still a smug ass, apparently. That hasn’t changed.

She laughs, “Yeah? Sure.” She pushes the door open, gesturing you inside. “After you, Ms. Becker.”

Breath in, breath out. Into the den of vipers you go.


	2. you can only get so thin

You pocket your sunglasses once you’re inside, with no small amount of regret. The extra layer of protection would be welcome right now, but you need to look normal. Or, well, as normal as a thirty-something has-been trans woman washout can be.

Following Ortega through the building is a balancing game of managing your own nerves. Anxiety and nausea clawing at your throat. The half-memories from your previous escape riding Argent’s mind through the building aren’t helping. Drab stonework brings to mind visions of the web of wiring hiding underneath. A picture frame you can remember hiding a security camera. Jamais vu, you might call it. You’ve seen it all before, but not as yourself, and not quite like this.

The secretary smiles at the two of you as Ortega waves, doesn’t stop you for questioning. She knows and trusts Ortega, you pick up on that immediately. You should be relieved she’s not Sarah, the old secretary. The Rangers knowing is bad enough, you don’t need word getting out that ‘Sidestep’ is back from the dead. It’s hard not to wonder about about her now though. Did Sarah go back to college like she kept complaining she would? Get that absolutely useless art degree? When did she quit?

It doesn’t matter.

Why do you even care?

You shouldn’t.

The guard doesn’t even lift his head as the two of you walk through the security scanners. So you still come up as ‘normal’ that’s good. You wrap your song tight around your mind regardless, no sense chancing any sort of trap. Security guards. That’s new. To what end? Anyone dumb enough to attack the HQ would just mulch rent-a-cops.

You follow Ortega into the elevator, watch as she punches in a security code, 3-5-6-2. Different than what you remember from Argent. Interesting. Did they change the code after the attack or is it a regular thing? The old HQ had nothing like this.

You stick your hands into your pockets and rock back and forth on your heels, chewing the inside of your cheek. Ortega has no reason to suspect anything. She’s just… being Ortega, trying to drag you back into her life. You’ll do her this last favor and then… you don’t know. Lose the cellphone you gave her the number for. It was a burner anyway.

“You okay there, Ari?” She side-eyes you as she punches a floor number.

You wince, “Y-yeah, I’m fine.” Change the subject, quick. “So. I– I can’t believe you’re not the marshal anymore. Is that right?”

“A lot of things changed after the whole Heartbreak fiasco. A lot of people died, friends died… I thought you had too.”

“Heartbreak? Wait. You mean… oh.”

She frowns, and you can watch her face through the mirrored wall, even as neither of you look at each other. “I don’t know who came up with the name.”

“It’s kind of melodramatic isn’t it?” You thumb the lining of your pockets, focus on the floor. Don’t look at the reflection of yourself in the wall. A pale ghost, disheveled with sunken eyes and unkempt hair.

Seven years has seen you graduate from delinquent teen to sullen transient.

“Maybe.” Ortega still doesn’t look at you. “Anyway, I couldn’t take the responsibility anymore. Knowing if I had made a different call you both might still be alive? So… I tried to retire, but it didn’t agree with me either.” God, she sounds so tired. _Old_. “I’m kind of jealous actually.” She adds as the elevator comes to a stop.

You furrow your brow. “Jealous? For what?”

Ortega leans forward into a security camera as it scans her face. “Being able to retire?”

That gets a weak laugh from you. “You… you really shouldn’t be.” Nausea churns in your stomach again. Does she really no idea? “It’s– it’s nothing to be proud of.” God knows you’re not doing this because you _want_ to. It’s simply the only option you have left.

Well not the only option but–

The doors hiss open and Ortega steps through, “Ari, you always made me proud. There’s no shame in retiring.”

You wipe at your eyes, a pressure making your nose itch, as you follow Ortega out and down a hallway. Your… memory? Impression of Argent’s memory? Has been fading, faster as you try to conjure it up again, but you think this must be the fourth floor conference room you’re heading towards and–

One wall of the conference room is a tinted pane-glass window. Standing with her back turned towards you both is Lady Argent, silver skin and blue skinsuit, her silver hair pulled back in a ponytail. A horse-shoe shaped conference table takes up most of the room.

The woman whose body you stole and sent on a rampage through the middle of a mall after stealing one of the most dangerous and illegal weapons locked up in the Ranger vault.

_Oh no_.


	3. before the good trickles out of you

On the other side, across from Argent, in his own blue Skinsuit the man you recognize to be Herald looks up as the two of you enter. He joined the Rangers the same year you returned to Los Diablos and he looks young enough to still get carded at bars. The black-eye that you-as-Argent gave him is coming along well. As soon as you look at him, his face lights up like it’s suddenly Christmas morning. After a second of staring back, his face reddens and he coughs into his hand, looking away from you.

At the head of table, slouched in his seat is Marshal Steel, drumming his fingers against the armrest. Even without his power armor on, the weight from his mods makes his seat sag underneath him. When he locks eyes with you, you’d swear your heart stopped for a second. You can pick up his suspicion, even as his face remains blank. Nothing’s changed there, then.

What _has_ changed is who’s missing. Neither of them surprises exactly but–

No Anathema. An assembly of Rangers without her? A dull ache twists your guts. Normally you try not to think about her. Her last moments. But this has hardly been a normal day.

No Sentinel either. Reading about his retirement had been a surprise, but also a relief. Wind powers like his would have been a pain in the ass to face in a fight.

Both transgender Rangers gone. Some of the only people who knew your own status. Were either of these new Rangers trans? Unlikely. Seven years had improved the public’s opinion on trans folk considerably, but the media would have still sniffed something like that out and had a field day with it. Another reason to avoid having paperwork, frankly.

Ortega claps her hands together, and you break eye-contact. “Sorry I asked Angie to call everyone in like this.” She points you towards a chair, “take a seat Ari, we’ll explain everything.”

You take your hands out of your pockets, glance around the room again. Any hidden restraints on the chairs? Poison gas vents? You carefully sit down and breath a sigh of relief as nothing proceeds to happen. Ortega sits down next to you, and Herald takes a seat across from you both, a smile beaming on his face. Oh this kid is going to be trial, you can already tell.

You glance back at Steel, he’s looking between you and Ortega. You hold up your hand in a weak wave. “Hello Chen. It’s… it’s– uh, been a while.”

Steel leans forward, stops drumming his fingers. “So. You’re not dead after all.” His tone is dry, empty of any pretense of warmth. “I had assumed Argent must have misheard.”

You wince. “Ortega can fill you in. It’s– it’s a long story.”

Steel’s merciless gaze lands on Ortega again. “Ortega has a lot of things she needs to fill me in about.”

Ortega frowns at that, “Later, alright?” She glances over towards Lady Argent, who has yet to acknowledge either one of you. “That’s not why I brought Ari here.”

Steel crosses his arms, his chair grinding in protest as he leans back. “Agreed.”

Herald clears his throat with a cough and folds his hands neatly in front of him. “I for one am ecstatic to have your help,” he looks directly at you and you sink down into the chair. He pauses for a second and then adds, slightly more timid, “And, uh, that you’re alive obviously.” He gives you a nervous grin and god, you figured the boy scout act was for the press, but he’s the real deal, isn’t he? His mind practically radiates it. “Charge always spoke highly of you, and now that we have Sidestep back in–“

You throw up a hand, enough is enough. “Just– just Ariadne. Please. Sidestep was years ago.” So was Ariadne, but you can’t exactly ask them to call you an object. That might get some stares.

“Of course, Ariadne.” Herald’s grin is wide and flawless, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes.

Herald hasn’t been on the scene for long but there’s already been rumors churning about grooming him to be the next Marshal once he has some years of experience under his belt. Sure he can fly and supposedly has superhuman durability but it feels like you hear about him holding press conferences and grand openings more than any actual, well, _being a hero_.

And then there’s Argent. Who _still_ hasn’t said anything, hasn’t turned to look at you. There’s no way she would recognize you. Right? She never saw you. Right?

Ortega takes the silence as permission to start. “I know we all have other things to do, and I know I should respect your retirement Ariadne, but we can’t trust anyone else with this.”

A knot twists in your stomach, and you have to stop yourself from sinking any further in your chair. You’ve got a bad feeling about this. “It’s… it’s that bad, is it?” You try to smile, but it doesn’t feel right, fake. As fake as you sitting here in this chair while Lady Argent stares out the window.

Herald rubs his arm. Bruise under there too? So much for that durability. “You’re, uh, you’re not wrong.” He looks towards Steel.

Steel purses his lips, staring you down. You swallow the lump in your throat and stare back.

He relents. “A week ago, an unknown assailant was able to manipulate Lady Argent into stealing an extremely dangerous item.” He pauses, still looking at you. Forcing yourself to meet his gaze is getting increasingly uncomfortable.“Argent doesn’t remember much, but got the impression this wasn’t one of the usual villains.”

You look away to table in front of you. They’ve got you. They’ve fucking got you. Why the whole pageantry? Just kill you already. Fucking bastards. They’ll drag you back to the farm, and that’ll be it. The rest of your life a test object. If you’re _lucky;_ they’ll just kill you.

Where did you fuck up? What did Argent pick up on? God, you’re so fucking useless.

Nausea again.

“It was one of our own.” You look up. Lady Argent has turned away from the window, staring right at you, voice hard. She looks you over, sizing you up. You keep waiting for the moment of recognition, the gasp, the widening eyes, or the snarl, the sharped teeth. But no, nothing, just silence and then: “I can’t remember much, but that’s the impression I got. It was someone that was supposed to be on our side.”

You blink. “W-wait– a hero?” How on earth did you leave that impression? Some lingering guilt?

You don’t feel guilty. You don’t feel anything. She’s the enemy. They all are.

Argent scowls as she sits down, arms folded over her chest as she leans back in the chair. “We can’t just bring in any of the psychics we know. It could be anybody. And you, well, you’re a perfect nobody.” There’s a pause, then her scowl deepens and she waves a hand. “Well, not exactly a nobody. Ortega always talked you up.”

You frown at that, and glance at Ortega. “…Ortega likes to exaggerate.” What has she been telling people about you? “My powers really aren’t nearly strong enough to go against someone that could… control you like that.” You frown. What was the lie you always went with back in the old days? “I can read some surface thoughts, get an edge in fight. That’s about it.”

“You’re a lot stronger than you think you are.” Ortega oh-so-helpfully reassures you, a smile on her face.

God, you could just jump out the window right now. Possessing Argent was a one-and-done thing. Or it was supposed to be. And now here she is, in front of you. Her face a mask but you can pick up a hint of what roils underneath and– You rub your eyes, try to look exasperated to hide the nausea, the self-disgust.“If you say so.”

They really don’t suspect you of anything, do they? You’re just the ghost of an old friend, come back at just the right time in their hour of need. Turn them down and they’ll find someone else. Expose you. Stop you.

Why would you feel guilty? Lady Argent is the enemy.

You put your hand down on the table, avoid looking at her, your other rests on your lap, tracing patterns on your leg. “If… Lady Argent is okay with it, I could try to clear up the memories. There might be some more clues she can’t remember just yet.”

Plant clues more like. Frame someone, more like.

Argent yanks her hand away from the table, the shock on face soon covered up again in a hard mask. She nods, “Fine. If that’s what it takes.” She scowls and brushes her hair back, “Let’s do it then.”

“W-w-wait, hang on,” you wave your hands, “I’m going to need time to prepare myself. I…” How do you phrase this? “I haven’t used my ability for something like this in years.”

This is going to be a project alright. Not like you needed another one. You’ll need a plausible scapegoat to send them after, some plausible clues Argent can latch on to… A whole other mental state to work yourself into so that she won’t make a connection to your previous attack… Oh god, this is crazy.

It’s be easy to just jump out the the window. You bite the inside of your cheek and wince. No– not yet. You can still weasel your way out of this.

You realize Steel is eyeing you again and run a hand through your hair. Finally, Steel nods. “That’s probably wise.”

“I’ll need… I don’t know, maybe a week, or two?” Stare up at the ceiling light, reviewing your schedule. Your time frame is tight enough as it is. “And also…” You glance back at Ortega, she’s still smiling at you, damnit. “Can I have Ortega there? I can’t read her, so it’s not like she’ll influence anything.” You try to smile back at her.

You can’t trust any of them, but you absolutely don’t want to be alone in a room with Argent. There’s plenty of worse things then death.

What _is_ Argent capable of, anyway? She feels pain, but doesn’t get hurt. She can morph her hands into razor-sharp blades, although you couldn’t figure it out when you possessed her. Is her silver skin some kind of metallic coating or is she like that to the bone? Not to mention she can see electrical wiring through walls and into the infrared.

You need Ortega there.

Ortega and Argent exchange looks, but what exactly it means goes over your head. Another little reminder that life went on without you. “If you don’t mind, Angie?” Ortega asks.

Argent looks between the two of you. “Fine. We’ll try it your way. But try and get ready quick.”

Steel has a notebook open in front of him –when did that happen?– and writes something down. “Very well, I believe that concludes today’s business. You’re all dismissed.”

You sag in your chair, and close your eyes. Thank fucking god.


	4. and something bad burrows its way in

Ortega gets up to talk to Argent, Herald sits in his seat looking lost. This is your chance to get the fuck out. You push your seat back and slip out into the hallway, tracing your path back to the elevator.

“Wait–” You freeze and so does your heart. Turn around and Steel is walking down the hallway towards you. “I’ll walk you out.” What expression is that on his face? Try to brush his mind, regret? That can’t be right.

The floor creaks under him, footsteps heavy. Did his legs get replaced with artificial ones? There had been a rumor about it. Something about his left arm seems different too. Damn, the years haven’t exactly been kind to Chen either it seems.

Not that you feel bad for the bastard.

Chen clears his throat as he walks alongside. “So.”

“So.” You agree.

Steel steps in front of you. “So, you survived.”

“That’s debatable” You don’t smile. There’s no point in pretending around Steel. All he cares about is his precious Rangers and making sure you know your place is outside of that.

“Now you’re back.” Steel doesn’t move. Would he stop you if you tried to pass him?

You grit your teeth. “I didn’t choose to be.” True in more ways than one. “Ortega tricked me into this. If I’d known–”

“Then you wouldn’t have come.”

“Yeah. I’m retired.” And then, because the frustration is bubbling up again and you can’t help yourself, you add; “emphasis on _tired_.”

Steel crosses his arms, ignoring the joke, as always. “You never were comfortable here, even before.”

You blink, taken aback. “What? No. That was _you_.” You jab a finger at him. “That was all you. _You_ made it hard to feel like home.”

Steel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. “It was never your home.”

Neither do you. “Yeah, and you going out of your way like this goes to show why it never was.”

To your surprise, that actually gets Steel to look away. He frowns. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“What?” An apology is the last thing you ever expected to get from Chen of all people.

“We may not have been friends,” you snort as he says it, “but I didn’t want to see you dead. I’m happy you're still alive.”

You have to take a step to the side, rub at your face, nose. Steel hated you. Despised you even. Right? Didn’t he? Why would apologize? Or say that? You want him to be lying. Need him to be lying. But if he is, it’s a goddamn master class because your telepathy isn’t picking up anything to the affect.

He’s stilted and awkward and all the charm of poison oak, but he’s _not lying_. Fuck. Fucking hell.

“Ariadne?” He’s watching you. Damn it.

Take a breath, wipe your eyes, breath out. “I’m fine.” You’re in control. You feel nothing. “L-look, Steel, let’s not pretend, okay? We were never friends.”

“No,” Chen agrees, “but we were allies. Teammates even.”

“Well bully for you, I’m retired now.” He _has_ to be lying. Somehow.

“Are you?”

You grit your teeth. “Yes.” Technically you’re not lying, you suppose. “I’ve got no attention of getting involved with the Rangers again, trust me.” You smile as you shake your head.

Chen meets your smile with a terse one of his own. “Then I’m glad we understand each other.”

“Everything okay here?”

You jump, taking your hand away from your face to glare in Herald’s direction. Fuck you’re out of it if you’re letting the kid get the jump on you.

“Herald.” Chen gives you a thoughtful look. “I thought you’d stay with Argent.”

Oh, that’s right, Herald and Argent are supposed to be dating. You’d completely forgotten. It sure didn’t seem like it back there.

Herald wrings his hands, “Ortega’s talking to her, so… I thought I’d come check…” He withers under the combined weight of your’s and Chen’s stares. “Ortega asked me. To make sure nothing… had happened…”

Chen sighs. “Of course she did.”

Herald glances between the two of you and realize he’s hovering an inch off the floor. Nervous response? How much control does he actually have over his flight? You don’t like the way he keeps stealing glances at you.

You hold out your hands, palms up, “I’m fine. Chen here is just walking me to the door.”

Herald looks between the two of you again. Clueless. confused. Guess no one shared _those_ little stories huh, wonderbread? “Okay. I just… wanted to make sure?”

Chen straightens up, glancing sideways at you. “We were just… reminiscing.”

You flinch at the word, but focus on Herald instead. “Ortega worries too much.”

“I’ll uh, I’ll get back to it then.” Herald smiles at you. You really wish he wouldn’t. “It was nice to actually get to met you, Sidestep.”

“Ariadne.” You correct him without even thinking about it, and then blink in surprise at yourself.

Fuck. This is Ortega’s fault. Ariadne is dead. That’s not who you are anymore. But spending the afternoon having to answer to it, being called that name… it’s starting to feel like yours again.

It hurts like hell.

Steel turns away, back down towards the elevator. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”


End file.
